Confusion
There was a spotty tiger,
he got muddled with a lion.
You won't find him on savannah grass,
nor in the trees in India,
you'll find him in the salad bar,
round the corner shop.
You may find him supping mocha's,
and wearing moccasins to keep his claws inside,
wearing his dark glasses to protect his sight,
he wore his bright pink headphones,
so he seek the beat,
never chased a zebra,
nor ate a wildebeest,
didn't hunt the townsfolk,
it wasn't in his style,
instead,
once a year in winter time,
he'd go off on holiday,
go flying down the piste.
Woo hoo!
There he goes again,
that trendy tigon,
liger?
Zooming past upon his skis.
(C) Livvi